


Ticking the Box

by anon7912



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Implied Relationships, Juyeon-centric, M/M, No Smut, One Shot, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26948452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anon7912/pseuds/anon7912
Summary: Juyeon has spent the last twenty two years of his life sort of just assuming he was straight.This is a story of moments and musings, boxes and labels, and ultimately, coming out.
Relationships: Bae Joonyoung | Jacob/Moon Hyungseo | Kevin, Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae/Lee Juyeon
Comments: 69
Kudos: 247





	Ticking the Box

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. This is...not something I wrote with the intention of publishing. 
> 
> This past month I've been going through the motions of coming to terms with my own identity. I wrote this because I thought it would help me puzzle through the pieces of who I thought I was and who I think I am. These are a collection of moments I've had in my personal life fictionalised into this universe, which kind of explains why it's so episodic. My feelings were all over the place and it (clearly) shows haha. It's very Juyeon-centric, and there's barely any romance in it; I just tied it up with implied JuJae because I am - say it with me - JuJae trash.
> 
> Honestly, as a fic, this is kind of shit. It's choppy and poorly written, and I don't really expect anyone to read it. Even so, if you do read it and you see a bit of yourself in Juyeon (or me, as it were), I hope it brings you some comfort. 
> 
> Thank you endlessly to my friends who have been so patient and kind to me. I hope you see a little of yourselves in these conversations because they really meant unspeakably much to me.
> 
> So I guess this is me coming out. Happy National Coming Out Day everyone! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> *Author's note: Hello, I'm writing this to say that I've retroactively edited Kevin's conversation with Juyeon. Since publishing this piece, I have learned that comp-het is a term used specifically by women (and which many argue should be used by lesbians only), so I have consequently changed the term in this work to "heteronormativity" which is the broad umbrella term. Thank you!

He’s heard stories, of course, of people coming out. 

It’d be sort of difficult not to as a twenty two year old living in a large metropolitan city with the internet at his fingertips. The narratives - some sweet and heartwarming, others grippingly sad - filter through all the usual channels, through books and movies and videos online. 

Juyeon doesn’t think there’s a single young adult in Seoul who hasn’t somehow encountered a coming out story. 

It always seems dramatic, noteworthy somehow. Even the funny, endearing stories involve a parent making a silly joke - “we know you’re out, but we’re also out of orange juice so pick some up on the way home won’t you?” - that makes its way to internet fame. And that makes _sense_ to Juyeon. 

Right?

Because these individuals of all shapes and sizes, genders and creeds, deserve the hoopla of being celebrated for their bravery. They do, particularly when the world is still rife with snide looks and petty discrimination that cheapens love the way it does. He likes hearing the people who’ve “known since they were a toddler” that they were different from the spangled love stories churned out by Walt Disney finally say the words out loud. 

It’s good. They _get_ to be inundated with love and support from people around the world who welcome them through the polychromatic gates of Eden. 

Perhaps this is why Juyeon doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when the fleeting thought of “how straight am I?” that has drifted periodically through his skull since adolescence suddenly seems, for once, to get tangled up with the fibres of other musings and lodges itself firmly in his cerebrum.

He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when a question as innocuous if not as regular as a consideration about the weather suddenly consumes his entire being.

The worst part is, he has no a-ha moment of “I’m in love with a man!” to draw upon, no deep-seated assurance that goes _click!_ in his head like an obliging little light switch, where numerous childhood crushes suddenly line up to finally make sense. 

Instead, he has: “What if- how does one know- I mean is anyone really 100%…Am I?” 

_And what the fuck is he supposed to do with that?_ he wonders frustratedly as he firmly types away at his laptop. The bright white light of his office offers nary a flicker in response and Juyeon shoves the thought aside for after 8 PM when the workday ends. 

He doesn’t know it yet, not then anyway, that a decision won’t come that day or the next. In the end, it takes four conversations and an awful lot in between for Juyeon to decide that he doesn’t have to make a decision at all.  
  


~~

  
To be completely fair, it’s not that there isn’t a _moment_ for Juyeon. There is. It’s just not quite deserving of the title. 

_It barely even deserves a “mo-”_ he thinks snidely much later, and it starts like this —

The mo- happens on a Saturday morning, bright and early when the sunlight still has the creaminess of daybreak. He’s scrolling aimlessly through his phone as he lounges against his bed, idly scratching his stomach - the way a _straight_ dude does if you subscribe to things like that - when he gets a text. 

Without pausing to think, Juyeon taps it open, and the sight makes his heart quite literally trip over itself in his ribcage.

His mild and terribly gentle friend, Younghoon, has texted him a movie trailer, and in that blurred set of congregated pixels on his phone, Juyeon can make out the elegant expanse of golden skin against sun-soaked sheets, lovely masculine lines with dark freckles scattered about like disparate stars across the galaxy. 

It’s sort of an absurd reaction, he knows. 

Even so, his mouth is dry when he clicks the video. For the following one minute and thirty two seconds, Juyeon watches, enraptured as a beautiful man flits in and out of the screen. There’s no narrative he can point to, no plot-line to note. All Juyeon knows is the way coiled muscles move as they shift languorously and the way sunlight looks dappled against twisting shoulder blades.

By the end of it, he’s sort of just- speechless. There’s something odd and foreign tickling at the back of his consciousness, calling softly for his attention. He stares, almost squinting at his screen as if it’ll help him process, but then—

Years of living as a straight man kick into gear. Juyeon closes out of the video and types back a response.

_SO HOT! Holy shit who is he?_

It’s 2020, and he’s well-versed in the motions of sexual fluidity expected of a liberal and educated young man. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about his response, and Younghoon’s reply comes back a moment later.

_Right? He’s this idol I like — he made a movie while the rest of his group was serving._

Juyeon nods even though Younghoon can’t see him, and his fingers dance out a response onto the touchscreen.

_Nice. He’s so hot I’m questioning everything haha_

When Younghoon sends back a laughing emoji with a flippant _you and every other straight guy in Seoul dude_ , Juyeon shuts his phone and swings his legs out of bed. A last short-lived thought to the beauty of a golden nape that drags the eye down to a dipping spine and then his day is proceeding as normal. Unhindered.

The mo- passes, transient and unremarkable.  
  


~~

  
Juyeon likes his job, he thinks indolently, as he wanders around Sangyeon’s office. He gets to read as much romance literature as he wants, gets paid to pick good books to be published and sometimes he’s even allowed to meet authors. 

What he’s not nuts about is the weekly hour-long stroll he takes around his boss’ mahogany covered quarters as he waits for Sangyeon to finish looking through his notes about manuscripts the publishing house has received a fortnight ago. 

Juyeon rather thinks this is the sort of thing that could be done over the ever-excellent _email_. 

Even so, it’s not like he minds that much. They’re close, and Juyeon enjoys listening to Sangyeon mumble as his eyes flicker back and forth between three screens (only really important people need three screens and Sangyeon is nothing if not important, as he regularly reminds Juyeon). 

Juyeon is staring at a photograph in a handsome gold frame when a thought suddenly occurs to him.

“Hey, you like men right?” 

It would be a wildly inappropriate question under any other circumstance, but Sangyeon, in addition to being his boss, is also his second cousin. It’s probably still a little bold to be asking on a Wednesday morning in the workplace, but spilt milk is what it is. 

Sangyeon looks up from his screen and pulls his glasses down his nose exasperatedly. 

“I just want to clarify, you’re looking at a photo of my _husband_ and asking me if I like men?” Sangyeon intones flatly. 

Juyeon waves a large hand in the air. “I meant you _only_ like men, right? Don’t get all pedantic on me.” 

Sangyeon cups a sculpted chin with his pen-calloused hands and smiles. “Yes, Juyeon, I am a homosexual,” he says, treacly sweet in his facetiousness. 

Juyeon huffs out a laugh and throws himself onto one of the armchairs facing Sangyeon’s desk. “Right. So…okay, intrusive question — how come you always push the team to pick lesbian lit and not gay lit?” Juyeon pauses. “Is that a fucked up question to ask? If I’m being an uneducated dickhead, tell me.”

Sangyeon chuckles and leans back in his own chair. “You’re fine, even though this is a little abrupt.” He mulls over his next words, and Juyeon watches warm brown eyes skitter across the room in thought. 

“I mean aside from the fact that women’s voices need to be empowered in the literary space, a lot of it is just my interest in the writers as people. They all live such interesting lives as public figures who are openly gay in Seoul, don’t you think? And there’s something magical about reading the way they describe love,” Sangyeon answers calmly. 

Juyeon nods and fiddles with his earlobe as he processes. “So it’s about love then? The universal human emotion that binds us all together?” Sangyeon’s sheepish grin is warm as he nods and Juyeon smiles back, eyes crinkling with affection. 

He’s about to re-embark on his cyclical journey around the worn yet expensive floorboards of Sangyeon’s office when his cousin’s voice pipes up once more.

“Part of the fondness I have for the genre also comes from reading a lot of lesbian writers when I was figuring things out for myself,” he adds pensively. “It provided a really great space to normalise the idea that heterosexuality isn’t a given for everyone and it was less scary than reading gay literature during a time when I was questioning things.” 

Juyeon halts where he’s standing by Sangyeon’s framed university degree, and peers over his shoulder at the older man. Something foreign nudges again at his prefrontal cortex. 

“Anyway, what’s your excuse?” Sangyeon asks mildly. “You’ve been pushing the same writers I have without my prompting the last few months. Where does your interest come from?” 

Juyeon stares.

Then, weakly, he responds, “Women deserve to be heard. Plus, same as you — it’s the people that interest me. They all just…happen to be queer women.”

Sangyeon smiles and re-perches his glasses on his nose. 

Juyeon wonders if the dull ringing in his ears is as loud for Sangyeon as it is for him.   
  


~~

  
It’s dark when he gets home that night, the sky already navy and amber from the city lights. 

Juyeon unlocks the door and wanders through the house, loosening his tie as he enters his bedroom. He should go brush his teeth and actually change, but there’s something inside him that seems to ache plaintively for comfort. As such, he simply lays down on top of his bed and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

It’s 10:17 PM. His girlfriend is likely already asleep, what with the time difference of being separated by entire oceans. 

Juyeon sighs and clicks on his camera roll. It’s been months since they last saw each other in person, but at least the capitalists behind smartphone companies have improved the cameras in their products to the point where Juyeon can see all the little freckles dotted across his girlfriend’s face when he taps on her picture.

Fondness rolls over him like a soothing wave, cresting and sweet. 

He’s happy, he thinks. He is. He’s happy and content and in a committed relationship, but why is it that when he closes his eyes, he wonders what it would be like to run his lips against muscled shoulder blades as broad as his own, caught between white sheets?   
  


~~  
  


He’s at lunch with Eric, the younger man happily sipping on a pink lemonade with his burger as they lounge on some outdoor picnic tables. It’s technically autumn, but the day is still hot and sticky, and Juyeon is grateful for the clinking ice cubes in his own Americano. 

“Hey can I ask you an invasive question?” he asks suddenly. Eric looks up from where he’s been drawing on the plate using ketchup and a limp french fry and grins.

“Sure! Hey do you think this looks like the Monopoly man or just like, a blob or something?” The younger man shoves his plate under Juyeon’s nose and Juyeon can’t help the incredulous little laugh that escapes him.

“Looks exactly like the Monopoly man, bud,” he says placatingly, and either Eric doesn’t sense the pandering tone or doesn’t care because he beams.

“Nice. What’s up?” he asks, popping the fry into his mouth. 

Juyeon wiggles his mouth from left to right as he ponders how to ask his question. In the end, he decides this is _Eric_ — Eric who he’s been close with for years now and who knows about his proclivity for asking things out of the blue.

“How did you know you weren’t straight?” 

The blonde man blinks. He frowns, the squinty kind where you can tell the person is trying to suss something out. Then he says slowly, “It took a while, I guess. I mean, it wasn’t easy even though my parents were always pretty liberal. You just get inculcated with only-straight media from a young age so it can be kind of surprising when you realise, ‘Oh hey, I like men too.’” 

Eric squints again then and pauses. “Wait, I didn’t answer your question. I just- kinda, like, saw this poster of an idol when I was thirteen and thought he was really cute. That’s how I knew,” he says before throwing another fry into his mouth. 

It’s Juyeon’s turn to frown. “But- I mean, how did you know you weren’t just straight and objectively appreciating a good-looking guy?” He waves the hand holding his coffee as he clarifies, and a tiny cold droplet hits his brow-bone but he pays it no mind. “You know? As in, where’s the line between being not-straight and just accepting that someone is objectively attractive?”

Eric nibbles on his nail as he ruminates and Juyeon waits. For some reason, his heart seems to thud with anticipation, as if something bigger than a lunchtime conversation rides on Eric’s answer. 

Finally, the blonde shrugs. “I guess you don’t always _know_ , but if you actually develop a crush on that person, that’s a pretty good sign.” 

Something deflates in his chest. Perhaps it shows on his face, or maybe Eric is just perceptive, because the other reaches out to grab his wrist. 

“Why? Were you…questioning?” 

The question lingers in the space between them and Juyeon’s stomach does a strange sort of flop. 

“I…I don’t know,” he answers. “You know what I’m like — maybe it’s just an intellectual exercise.” The joke is weak even to his own ears, and Eric looks at him worriedly. It makes him sigh, the perturbed expression on Eric’s face, and he slumps over the chipping red paint of the table.

“I mean, so I just started this job at Sangyeon hyung’s firm right? A few months ago, and it’s been great! It’s just, for the first time, I’m surrounded by a lot of LGBT people and, ugh I dunno.” Eric is patient as Juyeon sorts through his words. “They just…It just feels like being not-straight isn’t a big thing. Like, it’s part of them but it’s so normal that it’s- kinda irrelevant?”

His friend makes a sound of affirmation, and Juyeon continues.

“And then I started thinking about- y’know, what if _I_ wasn’t as straight as I thought I was? ‘Everyone’s a little bit gay’ and all that right?” he laughs nervously. “But there’s no point to this, I’m just- taking a thought experiment too far.” 

He moves to get up but Eric’s hand on his wrist squeezes. 

“Why do you think there isn’t a point?” Eric asks gently, halting his movement. 

Juyeon stares at him then snorts disbelievingly. “Why? Cause what am I supposed to do with the conclusion of that mental exercise? I’m not going to break up with my girlfriend just so I can test whether or not I’m into guys and it’s not like I’ll ever be able to come to a conclusion without actually doing anything- right? So…that’s it.” 

Eric opens his mouth to respond, but Juyeon barrels on, the metaphorical dam to his stifled thoughts breaking open with his friend’s innocuous question. 

“And, I mean, even if let’s say I _somehow_ come to the conclusion that I might be bi or pan or whatever else, what do I do with that? I’m not going to call my girlfriend up while she’s halfway across the globe and go, ‘Hey sweetheart, just thought you should know, I realised I _also_ like men now but don’t worry, I didn’t cheat on you and I still love you.’ Right?” Juyeon gesticulates, breathing heavily before he realises Eric is watching him a little sadly.

“Right?” he echoes again, feeling a little wretched. Eric shrugs.

“I mean you’re right in that you don’t have to do anything with it and it sort of just…is,” Eric says slowly. “But I think there’s something relieving about finding a part of yourself — just cause you don’t currently have a queer relationship, it doesn’t make you less queer.”

Juyeon blinks.

It’s still Wednesday, and it’s still his lunch hour even though it’s two minutes away from being over. The red painted picnic table is still there, and the Earth is still orbiting the sun, and yet, in spite of it all, in that moment the very make up of the universe seems to shift beneath him.  
  


~~

  
Juyeon remembers the first time he dreamed about another man, when he was still in university. Every sordid detail of that dream is drawn in the synapses of his brain in sharp, technicolour relief. Years later, sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can still see the endless legs underneath him, feel the coarseness of stubble against his neck. 

It’s maddening.

The worst part of it is that, the first time it happens, when he wakes up with his cock achingly hard against the waistband of his underwear and the memory of a sharp cry in his mind as his throat swallowed around pumping salty bitterness, his phone is buzzing incessantly on the bedside table. 

It’s his girlfriend calling him from her flat only two streets down from his. 

With shaky, clammy fingers, he swipes to answer.

“Hey darling!” Her voice is chirpy and sweet through the receiver - a morning person - and Juyeon responds weakly.

“Hey babe,” voice quivering with guilt and the last dredges of arousal that curl around his oesophagus. “W-what’s up?”

“Did you just wake up?” his girlfriend asks with a chuckle. “I’m just calling cause I’m coming over right now and I wanted to see if you wanted anything from the cafeteria. I almost missed my 9AM class cause the coffee machine took _forever_ , and then on the way down, this guy totally bumped into…”

Juyeon lets the sound of her voice wash over him as he rubs his eyes tiredly and listens to her talk about her day with the most bizarre combination of adoration for his girlfriend and burning guilt about sucking a guy off in his fucking _dream_.

Still, it’s college, and it’s not like he has time to contemplate the problem much further, especially when he has three papers due in the next few days. When she hangs up, he gets up to go to the bathroom and prepares to start his day. He firmly ignores the condemnable wetness staining a thumb-print sized patch onto the front of his cotton boxer briefs.  
  


~~

  
Juyeon knows he probably makes an absurd sight. He does. He knows his poor friend Kevin is really not expecting to see Juyeon, dishevelled and wild-eyed, on Saturday at 8:23 AM at his doorstep after being woken up by frantic pounding. 

Juyeon sort of hopes that the oat milk flat white he has clutched in his hands will make up for it, but it’s not a sure fire thing at all.

When Kevin opens the door, he is understandably baffled if not disgruntled.

“Ju-” a yawn, “-yeon? Dude what’re you doing here?”

Juyeon pushes past him into the cosy flat, uncharacteristically rude but too desperate to care about niceties. “I need to talk to you. I don’t think I’ve slept for four nights — I’m _drowning_ , man.”

Kevin’s sleep-heavy eyes fly open at that, and he stares at Juyeon with concern. “Woah, yeah okay, let’s talk. Is that for me?” He makes a grab for the coffee and pulls it to his chest like a lifejacket.

“Sit, sit,” he says, ushering Juyeon to the sofa covered with a brightly patterned throw blanket. “What’s going on?”

Juyeon gazes back at him with a sort of caged helplessness radiating from his very frame, the words suddenly trapped in the space between his tongue and his teeth. Kevin cocks his head, observant as always, and watches him carefully even though his eyes are still unfailingly kind.

Finally Juyeon just decides to blurt it out.

“How did you know you were bi?” 

To his credit, Kevin doesn’t react at all to the very intrusive question at what is now 8:37 AM on a Saturday morning - fourteen minutes! Juyeon spent fourteen minutes struggling to get the words out - and simply smiles.

“I was in middle school and Aakash Gupta in advanced maths came to class all sweaty from P.E. the period before,” Kevin says dreamily. “It was boner at first sight, man.”

Juyeon allows himself a chuckle here, some of the tension in his bones ebbing away at Kevin’s light-heartedness. The stiffness in the air seems to dissipate a little, and they both lean back against the garishly coloured tartan throw Kevin keeps on the back of his sofa. 

“After that, I kind of figured out I wasn’t exactly straight, but I didn’t really do anything with that knowledge,” Kevin goes on. “I wasn’t in a rush to start dating in high school anyway, so I spent the next few years getting comfortable with my identity. Dated around a little in uni, some women, some men, some non-binary people. The usual, messy college stuff.”

He takes a sip of his coffee and regards Juyeon contemplatively over the rim of the to-go cup lid. “Why? I know you didn’t just bust in here at eight on a Saturday for this very riveting tale of adolescent Kev’s love for Aakash’s glistening biceps.”

Juyeon sighs heavily and runs a large hand through his hair. It gets a little tangled in some of the knots - it’s not like he had time to brush it out in the midst of his panic - but he rips through them with a sort of irate determination.

“I guess I’m just…questioning things,” Juyeon says finally. “I think I might be- y’know…not straight” - the word ‘bisexual’ is four syllables and eight letters but nothing has ever been harder for Juyeon to say out loud - “but I don’t really know what to do with that realisation.”

Kevin nods. “Why do you feel like you have to do anything at all?” he asks gently.

Juyeon huffs out an impatient breath. “‘Cause- I mean, c’mon Kev, what — I’m just gonna _say_ I’m queer but have a straight relationship and be totally straight passing? That’s so _fucked_.”

Kevin frowns now and draws the cup away from his lips. “Why?” he asks, sounding completely baffled.

Juyeon blinks at him disbelievingly. “ _Why?_ ‘Cause what if I never break up with my girlfriend? Like, what if we get married — I’m just going to say I’m queer inside but never have any actual queer experiences? So I can just ride the coattails of this movement that thousands of people have fought for while I get all the benefits of being straight passing? That’s so messed up.” 

His breath is laboured as he rattles his words out, frustration filling every crevice of his bones. He doesn’t even notice his hands are quivering until Kevin gently takes one into his own and laces their fingers together. 

“Listen,” Kevin starts, shifting closer so that their knees are touching. “Just because you define yourself as bi or queer, it doesn’t mean you suddenly have to catapult yourself into queer spaces. Even if you never have a queer relationship for the rest of your life, it doesn’t change who you are inside.” 

Juyeon nods nervously. Kevin’s proximity, both physical and emotional, makes him feel antsy somehow, squirmy even, and he tries to shift away but Kevin holds on tight to his hand. 

“There’s this whole thing facing bi folks where if we happen to be in a straight relationship, suddenly we’re not bi enough, y’know? And that sucks, and it’s biphobic and 100% untrue. You’re bi or pan or anything you want to be as long as _you_ feel that way,” Kevin says seriously. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.” 

He finally relents to releasing Juyeon’s hand, and Juyeon immediately moves to rub his eyes tiredly. He slumps so that his head is leaning back against the top of the sofa and stares aimlessly at Kevin’s ceiling. There’s a faded red stain on the top, an artefact of one of Kevin and Jacob’s rowdier parties where Sunwoo had haphazardly thrown his pizza at the ceiling to settle a bet with Eric on how long it would take for the slice to fall.

Juyeon exhales slowly, eyes fluttering shut before he opens them again. He turns to look at Kevin tiredly.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking you all of this. I have no idea if I’m even…” he trails off, the word still lodged in his throat.

Kevin props his chin up in his hand and cocks his head. “Well, what made you start thinking about all of this?” 

Juyeon snorts, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. It sounds so fucking juvenile. “It was this video,” he admits cagily. “Of an idol.” 

It takes Kevin a beat to respond, but by the time he has his mouth open, Juyeon is plunging forward. “I mean, it wasn’t anything revolutionary, and I’ve obviously seen _porn_ before so it wasn’t like I was a Victorian man seeing a calf for the first time but it kinda- it got me thinking about ‘oh maybe I’m not that straight’ - which I think about occasionally by the way, this isn’t, like, _new_ or anything - and it was just this- I dunno, thought experiment but then it spiralled out of control and now I’m here, in your apartment, like a huge asshole with no regard for your personal time or space.”

Kevin blinks. “Okay one, you’re not an asshole, and two, that’s…” he lets air escape between his teeth. “Fair. Super fair.” Another pause. “Can I ask — when else have you thought about possibly not being straight?” The question is unassuming, timid, so Juyeon knows he could not answer if he so chose. 

Even so, he pulls on his earlobes as he feels a swell of confessions build up inside of him. 

“There’ve been…a bunch of moments, I guess, and I always kind of brushed them aside cause- well. Y’know,” Juyeon says, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

Kevin nods with a sort of weary camaraderie. “Yeah. Heteronormativity.”

Juyeon frowns and looks over. “What? What’s that?” 

His friend’s eyebrows dart up his face, and an expression of perplexed surprise takes over his face. “Oh you- you don’t know? I forget that people outside of LGBT circles don’t really talk about this. Heteronormativity is the societally constructed assumption that heterosexuality is the natural norm and everything else is a deviation.”

Something washes over Juyeon then, a bizarre sort of clarity that’s both terrifying and comforting. Before he can dwell on it for much longer, however, Kevin nudges his knee. 

“Sorry, I interrupted. You were telling me about your moments?”

Juyeon shakes his head slowly and draws his legs up to his chest. “Yeah, I dunno. Just little things. Like, I kissed a guy once when I was at party in uni and I’ve- uh, had these-” he coughs, “-dreams about guys. But I don’t know if those moments mean something or if they’re just anomalies.”

Kevin frowns. “Why would they be anomalies?” 

Juyeon throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know Kev — the party thing happened when I was eighteen and it only happened once.”

“But you _wanted_ to kiss him?” Kevin clarifies, bright eyes careful but comforting all the same. 

Juyeon grimaces and shrugs. “Yeah but what if I was just bored and looking for something to do?”

There’s a weighty pause before Kevin speaks. “I mean…maybe that’s what it was, but would you be bending over backwards to explain why you kissed a girl?”

Silence.

“Heteronormativity,” Kevin says matter-of-factly as he flops his head down beside Juyeon’s. “It’s everywhere, man.”   
  


~~

  
It’s afternoon by the time Juyeon leaves Kevin’s apartment. Kevin hugs him goodbye, murmuring a gentle, “You don’t need a label to define who you are,” into his ear, and though Juyeon nods dutifully, the discomfort of not being defined, of feeling out of place, still lingers in the back of his mind.   
  


~~

  
It’s great, partying every once in a while. His friends are all sort of wild, and even the less wild ones are far more riotous than Juyeon is himself. It’s also great because Juyeon has been veritably curling in on himself in a self-inflicted mental marathon of puzzling through his own sexuality, and he _needs_ to get out of the house. 

He’s just leaving his flat to meet up with everyone when his phone buzzes with a text. When he pulls it out of his back pocket, he sees a short message from his girlfriend.

_Have fun tonight sweetheart! Go wild woo woo!! Party boy!_

He chuckles and shoots a plethora of heart emojis back, chest unimaginably warm with love. 

When Juyeon gets to the club, he sees he’s the last to arrive. Kevin is already a few drinks in by the looks of it, draped happily over Jacob who keeps running his fingers reverently up and down the pale expanse of Kevin’s arm. Eric is there, laughing raucously with Sunwoo and beside Sunwoo is—

“Hyunjae hyung?” Juyeon intones surprisedly. “When did you get back?!”

Hyunjae leaps up from the booth, eyes dancing with mirth and hair conspicuously darker than the blonde mop he left Seoul with three months ago and throws his arms around Juyeon.

“Yesterday,” he laughs as Juyeon squeezes him back tightly. “It’s so good to see you! Did you- woah buddy, have you been working out?” Hyunjae squeezes Juyeon’s bicep playfully and Juyeon bats his hand away with a blush.

“Stop,” he whines. 

“Seriously! You’re huge!” Hyunjae marvels, punching Juyeon’s chest lightly. Juyeon waves him off and shields his body with two enormous hands.

“Can you get off?” he laughs, shoving past Hyunjae. The two of them sit back down in the booth, and Kevin offers Juyeon an air kiss while Jacob reaches over the sticky table to squeeze Juyeon’s hand affectionately. 

“I got you your beer, hyung, but then Sunwoo drank it,” Eric beside him yells over the reverberating bass, lisp adorably augmented by the intoxication. Juyeon shoots Sunwoo a dirty look that dissolves the second Sunwoo bats his eyes contritely, so he just ruffles the younger man’s hair.

“’S fine, I was late anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna go get another one — does anyone want anything?” There’s an immediate chorus of orders and Juyeon reels with the sheer specificity of Kevin’s drink request — St. Germain liqueur, two shots of vodka, soda water and _what?_

“And a cherry cordial soaked lemon slice,” Hyunjae says into his ear. “C’mon, I’ll help you carry them back.”

All of Juyeon’s friends are tactile - Kevin and Jacob in particular - but three months separated from Hyunjae had prompted him to forget just how touchy one person could be. Hyunjae wraps his right arm around Juyeon’s shoulder and presses their sides against one another as they weave their way through the crowd, and, with his free hand, grabs Juyeon’s wrist to link their fingers together. 

Juyeon smiles at the man beside him, grateful that the summer apart while Hyunjae was off in the States managing the boy group his company owned had changed nothing between them.

“So, how’re you? How’s work? Your girlfriend? Did you get settled into your new place okay?” Hyunjae rattles off a series of questions as they approach the bar. Juyeon chuckles and answers each one in turn, fondness blooming in his chest when he sees the way Hyunjae’s eyes travel eagerly across his face, almost as if he _missed_ Juyeon as much as Juyeon missed him.

It’s so easy to forget himself with Hyunjae, Juyeon finds. Even though the bartender has long served their drinks, and he can occasionally feel an annoyed jostle at his side hinting at them to move, Juyeon lets himself sink into the cosiness of Hyunjae’s company as their conversation takes them to the different food Hyunjae tried in America all the way to the tabby cat Juyeon’s landlady owns. 

Hyunjae is talking about the superiority of dating apps in the U.S. when a girl finally taps his shoulder exasperatedly. 

“Can you guys not catch up at the bar? Seriously, we’re all waiting to order,” she snipes. Juyeon flushes with embarrassment and quickly goes to grab their tray, but Hyunjae merely grins winningly at her and shrugs before grabbing the other two drinks on the counter. 

“Anyway, the U.S. was great and there are _so_ many more guys on Tinder,” he extols as he keeps in line with Juyeon’s long strides. He’s too busy chattering away to notice that Juyeon had started and stopped abruptly, only noticing when he turns to see Juyeon hurrying behind him.

“Wait you- oh wow I- shit sorry, that’s great-” Juyeon stumbles over his words. How _mortifying_. It’s 2020 and Juyeon is standing there tripping over himself when his long-time friend casually drops that he dates men instead of behaving like a functioning human being. 

But Hyunjae, sweet as ever, simply scrunches his nose and nudges Juyeon with his shoulder.

“You’re so cute,” he coos. “It’s fine Juyeon-ah, this is kind of a new thing. You’re allowed to be surprised. We’ve been friends for so long — I’d be surprised too.” 

Juyeon feels heat travelling to his face and bites the inside of his cheek. “Still, I’m sorry, I obviously don’t care- or like, I care but because I care about you not cause I’m- y’know, a homopho- like I don’t-”

“Juyeon,” Hyunjae interrupts with a fond laugh. “Seriously. Stop.”

Juyeon would protest and explain further except they’ve finally reached their table and Sunwoo has pounced on them with a whiny “what took so long?”. They all cheers and down their shots, some manfully swallowing their tears while others cough at the dry burn of vodka. Either the high of being back with friends is really that potent or their tolerances are just that light, but regardless, Kevin, Jacob, Eric and Sunwoo immediately whoop and jump up to go dance. 

Juyeon watches Hyunjae watching them go dotingly and takes a few gulps of his vodka soda to steady his nerves. When Hyunjae turns his head back around, Juyeon has - much to his own chagrin - already gone through three quarters of the glass. 

“Woah!” the older man laughs. “Slow down dude.”

Juyeon pushes the playful mood aside and leans a little closer to ask hesitantly, “Hyung? Can I…uh, can I ask you a question?” Hyunjae immediately sobers up and scoots closer. 

He throws his arm around Juyeon and rubs the jutting apex of his shoulder bone comfortingly.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Juyeon lets out a shaky breath, confusion and self-doubt making his brain go numb. “How did you know you weren’t straight?” He’s asked this question twice now, but something about asking it this time feels weightier somehow because while he met Kevin and Eric after they had already come out and were openly queer, he’s known Hyunjae since they were children and always…assumed. 

Juyeon had always assumed Hyunjae was just- straight.

Kevin’s voice echoes in his head. _Heteronormativity_ _. It’s everywhere, man._

Understanding dawns on Hyunjae’s face and he smiles. “I guess you had no idea, huh?” he chuckles. “I mean, to be fair, I had no idea either. I didn’t just date girls all through high school and uni cause I felt like I had to or something. I just-” He shrugs. “A few days before I left for the States, a really cute guy hit on me at a bar and I was like, into it, so I just didn’t question things too much.”

He leans back, arm still hooked around Juyeon’s shoulders. “The U.S. is so different from here, especially in cities like New York and L.A. It’s way less of a taboo and more just people living their lives. It really helped me see that being straight isn’t the normal option that queer people deviate from. Being queer is just as normal.”

Juyeon nods slowly, and his throat feels like it’s closing. _Normal_. He takes three large gulps of his drink to swallow down the rapidly welling emotion and promptly chokes. 

Hyunjae bursts into laughter and reaches over to pat him on the back.

“Seriously, slow down!” he guffaws as Juyeon veritably hacks up a lung. When he finally settles, Juyeon turns to the older man with eyes teary from coughing. 

“So…you didn’t know all along? I mean, you didn’t spend your whole life feeling like something was off and then suddenly have it click when you realised?” he croaks, a throbbing in his temple either from the alcohol or the anticipation. _He needs to know, needs to know if he’s the only one._

Hyunjae cocks his head and his eyebrows shoot up. “No, not at all!” he exclaims. “It’s just something I drifted into. Who knows, maybe I’ll go through periods where I only want to date men, or go through periods when I only want to date women. Or, I don’t know, maybe I’ll one day just date whoever.”

He looks at Juyeon with eyes as kind and familiar as they were the day Juyeon met him, five and seven years old respectively in the school playground with the sun beating down on them. “Love is fluid, Juyeon-ah. You don’t have to only be one thing your whole life,” Hyunjae says gently. 

Later, many years from now, Juyeon will probably realise that the warmth he feels spreading through his veins like liquid gold is the sensation of acceptance, of belonging, but for now, he’s twenty three and has just downed three shots worth of vodka in thirty minutes so— he’s drunk. That’s what that feeling is.

So Juyeon just nods heavily, head lolling as the alcohol makes his way through his system and smiles a little hazily back at Hyunjae. “Cool.”

Hyunjae laughs, fond and a little dubious maybe. Still, he takes it in stride and grabs Juyeon’s hand to pull him out of the booth. “C’mon, let’s go dance,” he says, and Juyeon is only sober enough to do finger-guns in response. 

Sure, it’s not the most mature thing in the world to handle enormous life revelations by getting piss drunk, but as the thumping bass vibrates through Juyeon’s being on the neon-lit dance-floor, it feels like it’s enough. It’s enough to know that among these yelling, sort of immature men who dance like heathens and revel like Roman emperors, Juyeon feels normal — like it’s okay that he is who he is, which is confused and curious and a little lost in the world. 

It’s 1 AM when he finally decides his feet ache enough for him to justify leaving the club. Kevin and Eric protest with harrowing cries, but Juyeon chuckles and bids them goodnight anyway as he stumbles out of the sweaty refurbished warehouse. He’s stepping onto the street, the early autumn evening still warm but comfortably breezy when he feels a hand at his elbow.

“Hey, you going home?” Hyunjae asks, appearing beside him as if out of thin air. Juyeon juts his lower lip out and nods ponderously.

“Indeedio,” he slurs. “You?” 

Hyunjae smiles and shakes his head. “Nah, just wanted to check on you before you left. Are you sure you’re good to get home alone?”

“You're a good friend,” Juyeon mumbles, eyes glassy and unfocused as he blinks into the darkness. “‘M fine to taxi home m’self.”

Hyunjae seems to regard him carefully for a second before he nods. “Alright, just drink some water when you get back okay? I’m gonna hail a cab for you.” 

Juyeon nods before wandering over to lean against the warehouse wall, head tilted back as he sleepily watches Hyunjae wave down a car. He’s wasted and yeah, it’s kind of dim under the street lamps, but Hyunjae sure is _pretty_. Something about his broad shoulders and lithe frame cast under the rusty glow of the street lamp remind Juyeon of a video he saw a while ago of golden sunlight and—

“Here!” Hyunjae yells, swinging his arm maniacally. A car down the road seems to take notice of him and Juyeon sees the cab come rolling up. He propels himself off the wall, limbs loose from intoxication and ambles over. 

“Go on, get in. You have cash on you right?” Hyunjae asks as he opens the door. A pale slender hand rests on Juyeon’s shoulder, and there’s no way Juyeon should be able to feel its warmth under the layers of his bomber jacket and shirt, but he almost thinks he does. 

“Yep,” he mumbles tipsily. Hyunjae’s chuckle sounds fond as he brushes his knuckles against Juyeon’s forehead. It’s barely a fraction of a moment, but the contact makes Juyeon look up. Dark eyes meet his, affectionately glinting in the night, but maybe Juyeon stares back a little too long because then- then Hyunjae looks _nervous_.

It’s unbidden, the flickering of his own pupils, Juyeon thinks. He doesn’t mean to, but they dart of their own volition down to Hyunjae’s mouth - so red and a little chapped around the swell of his bottom lip - and he thinks—

“Get some rest, Juyeon-ah,” Hyunjae says gently, pushing his shoulder to help him into the car. “Text the group-chat when you get home, okay?”

The moment - _or is it a mo-?_ \- passes, and Juyeon nods heavily as he folds his legs into the tight backseat area. 

“Bye hyung,” he mutters sleepily, eyes already drifting shut. It’ll be fine, he thinks — the taxi driver is a nice-looking older lady who probably won’t axe murder him in his sleep. Thoughts of Hyunjae’s lips drift out of his mind as quickly as they came.   
  


~~

  
“So you’ll apply, right?” 

Sangyeon stares at him expectantly, and Juyeon, who had completely disconnected from the conversation 10 minutes before, starts. 

“Huh?” 

Sangyeon exhales in a long-suffering way only he could make convincingly sympathetic before pushing a set of papers towards Juyeon.

“The book tour. For that new dystopian romance book we just published? You know, the one you pushed for months? The publishing house is sending a representative to accompany the author for a month in the U.S.,” Sangyeon says. He taps on the paper firmly with his forefinger, punctuating each word — “You should apply.”

Juyeon picks the application form up and stares down at it. “Yeah, it sounds great,” he enthuses, genuinely excited. “I’ve always wanted to visit U.S. Hey, did you know you can swim in the Hu-”

“The Hudson river!” Sangyeon cuts him off excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to try that!” 

The two of them laugh, familiar and affectionate, before Juyeon rises. “I’ll try and fill this in this weekend,” he says. “Thanks for telling me about it, hyung.”

Sangyeon smiles and pops his glasses back on his face. “‘Course. I’m not on the voting committee but I’ll put in a good word for you. Nepotism is the foundation of our fine nation, right?” 

Juyeon doesn’t respond, just rolls his eyes fondly and sees himself out.  
  


~~

  
It’s Sunday, an unassumingly relaxed one at that. Juyeon finds himself at a local cafe, the outdoor seating delightfully unoccupied this early in the morning as he sips on an almond milk latte and muses on the crispness in the weather that makes a hot beverage so wonderfully comforting.

He has a number of manuscripts loaded onto his laptop and the loose sheets of the book tour application form in front of him while he twirls a blue ballpoint pen between long fingers. 

The sun coats his skin with gentle light as it rises in the sky, and Juyeon hums happily to himself through the mindless process of filling out his basic information. It’s a reasonably standard application - he has to write a short blurb about why he feels he would best represent the company on top of the basic fill-ins - and Juyeon goes down the page quickly. 

It’s only when he reaches the bottom that he sees it.

“I identify as a member of the LGBT community: Yes  ☐ No  ☐ ”

His breath catches in his throat, and for a second, Juyeon feels a buzzing behind his eyes that is more than a little concerning. Out of instinct, his hand moves towards the “no” box, the cheap rollerball of his blue pen hovering dangerously close to the white paper.

It stays there for a second, hanging in the air like a spectre, and in Juyeon’s mind’s eye, he can see the navy ink rolling smoothly across the paper, a short and then a long stroke that marks his identity in 1.0 mm permanence.

He can’t do it.

Juyeon’s hand falls, limp, to the table. 

For all that Kevin had said he didn’t need to put a label on things, here he is, on a Sunday morning being asked to define himself by an application form. A part of Juyeon wants to just ball the papers up and throw them away — he doesn’t have to go to the U.S. right? The Hudson river will still be there when he saves up enough money to make his own trip.

He’s about to do it too, when his phone vibrates on the table beside him. It’s his girlfriend, the profile picture of her cheeky grin popping up on the screen.

Juyeon smiles and swipes to answer. 

“Hey babe,” she greets. She has her glasses on and no makeup — a clear sign that she’s about to go to bed. “Whatcha up to?”

He leans back and flips the camera around to show her his laptop and papers. “Just some work stuff, nothing big. How’re you?” 

Lately, it feels like they’ve been talking less. They hardly have time to call, what with her ridiculous work schedule and the gruelling time difference between them. Juyeon wonders briefly if she feels the distance too, but then his girlfriend is responding and he has no time to dwell on it much longer.

“Fine, just busy. The first round of interviews for the VP position are coming up and- fuck babe, I _really_ want it,” she admits begrudgingly. Juyeon chuckles and props his chin up in his hand.

“You’ll get it, don’t worry. Fighting!” he cheers quietly with a clenched fist. She laughs and shifts on her bed.

“What’re those forms for? Is it that tour thing you were telling me about?” she asks. Juyeon nods, his face falling, and maybe it’s a testament to how well she knows him because she immediately frowns. “What? What is it?”

He sighs and scrubs his hand over his face - something he seems to be doing a lot these days - and responds, “Nothing just-”

“Tell me,” she insists. She’s always been a little belligerent about talking things through. “Maybe I can help.”

Juyeon hadn’t really planned on coming out to his girlfriend on a random weekend without any preamble, but at the familiar cadence of his girlfriend’s voice and the absolute tumultuousness of the turmoil churning in his chest, the words somehow come spilling out.

“I don’t think I’m straight anymore.”

There’s a heavy silence. In the distance, Juyeon hears a few birds twittering into the autumn chill.

“You- what?” his girlfriend echoes, mystified.

Juyeon bites the inside of his cheek. “I- uh…I don’t think I’m straight anymore.”

A long breath escapes between his girlfriend’s parted lips and she stares off at something to the left of her phone.

“I…okay. I see. How did you- did you meet someone? Like, are you- do you have feelings for a guy? Is that how you figured this out?” she asks with a frown marring her features, tension colouring her tone.

Juyeon sighs. “No it’s not- that’s not what happened. I’ve just been thinking a lot I guess and talking to my friends has made me realise that a lot of things that’ve happened in the past were- I dunno, signs. That I’m not straight, I mean.”

His girlfriend’s tongue flicks out to nervously lick her top lip. “Okay. Right. Did you- like, want to see other people?”

Juyeon chokes and blurts, “No! God, babe, no that’s not it at all. It’s just been…confusing for me, and this form for the tour is asking if I’m LGBT or not which is why I brought it up, otherwise I wouldn’t have and-”

“You wouldn’t have brought it up?” she interrupts — it’s a bad habit that she knows about, her proclivity for interrupting, but Juyeon lets it slide because, well, he thinks it’s only fair. She cocks her head and looks at him worriedly. “Why?” 

Juyeon starts. He blinks slowly, mulling it over, before mumbling, “I mean…I didn’t want you to feel like I was thinking about other people or- I mean, it just doesn’t change anything. So I didn’t see a point.”

His girlfriend runs her hand over her neck - a tick Juyeon knows comes out when she’s thinking deeply about something - and hums. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me stuff. It’s okay if that’s how you feel, sweetheart,” she says gently. “It doesn’t change anything between us if you say it doesn’t.”

Juyeon huffs out an incredulous breath. “You- are you serious? You’re not mad?”

She laughs then, bright and loud, the way she always does. “No! I mean…I think we should talk about this more, but it’s, like, 2 AM here and I have work in five hours,” she says, a smile tugging at her mouth. “I love you. You know that right?” 

Juyeon smiles and the tightness in his ribcage uncurls itself, tension turning into relief. “Yeah, I love you too,” he murmurs. “You should sleep. Don’t want you dozing at your desk.” 

She rolls her eyes at the jab but nods anyway. 

“You’re right, I should go.” His girlfriend pauses, drawing her bottom lip into her mouth. “You should tick the box. The LGBT box. If that’s really how you feel, you deserve to tick that box,” she says, her eyes brimming with tenderness.

A thick lump gathers so quickly at Juyeon’s throat that he thinks for a moment he might’ve stopped breathing. They regard each other for a second, his girlfriend running her gaze affectionately over his face.

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “You’re right.” 

She nods. 

“Night babe,” she murmurs, blowing him an air kiss. It’s cheesy, but he blows one back.

“Night. Love you.” 

The screen goes black.

When Juyeon picks up the pen again, his hands are clammy and quivering, but the line of blue that ticks the box beside “yes” is sure and steady. It looks _right_.  
  


~~

  
When he drops the forms off at the end of the day on Tuesday, he calls his friends over for a drink at his place. He doesn’t mean to make it a big Thing with a capital T, but they draw the confession out of him anyway — the fact that he ticked “yes”.

Kevin is raucous and celebratory. Jacob squeezes his hand. Sangyeon ruffles his hair. Younghoon almost falls off his chair - to be fair though, Juyeon hadn’t been keeping him in the loop, which is a neglect that he gets a stern earful over later that evening - before laughing from the ground. Eric sloshes beer over Juyeon’s floorboards with how hard he pumps his fist. 

And Hyunjae- Hyunjae just smiles and raises his drink silently across the room to Juyeon. Juyeon likes the way his eyes twinkle over the rim of the can.  
  


~~

  
Three weeks later, Juyeon is chopping onions for his kimchi stew when his phone buzzes. He grimaces as he tries to slide his nose across the screen to answer, a little grossed out by the smudge it immediately creates. 

_Should probably buy some oil blotting sheets_ he thinks before calling out, “Hello?”

Sangyeon’s voice is warm and jovial when he responds. “Juyeon-ah! I have great news. The committee picked you to go on the North American tour for the new dystopian romance we just published!”

Juyeon feels two things in sharp contrast all at once — giddy, dizzying excitement and crushing guilt. Then, because he’s _him_ , guilt wins out.

“That’s great,” he answers back tiredly, tepidly, as he manoeuvres the device to his ear with a combination of a clean pinky finger and his wrist at an odd angle. Juyeon can almost hear Sangyeon frowning over the receiver. 

“Why aren’t you more excited? This is huge! All expenses paid trip to the States and you’ll get to meet a bunch of authors at various events. I thought you’d be excited,” Sangyeon reproaches gently. 

Juyeon sighs and leans against the counter, phone wedged tightly between his shoulder and his ear. His neck will start throbbing soon, but he’s not really thinking about that right now.

“I’m just feeling…shitty. What if they picked me because I checked that box? That LGBT box? And I just took the opportunity away from someone else and am benefitting from this thing I’ve barely been a part of?” 

His voice quivers with repressed shame, and if he weren’t terrified of salmonella or E. coli, he’d probably rub his face with his hands. There’s a pause where Sangyeon doesn’t say anything, and then soft laughter is drifting through the speakers.

“Juyeon-ah,” Sangyeon says, so, so fondly. “Why do you live with so much guilt? Did I push you too hard that one time in the park and now you’re permanently messed up?” 

Juyeon’s heart is too heavy to chuckle along with Sangyeon, but he smiles anyway at his cousin’s attempt to lighten the mood. 

“C’mon hyung, you know what I mean. I’m just benefitting from the company’s affirmative action efforts without actually being someone who- I don’t know, was impacted by their sexuality all their life. Someone who deserves to be lifted up institutionally,” Juyeon says quietly. 

Sangyeon sighs and Juyeon can hear papers shuffling in the background. “Did you tick the box because you wanted to benefit yourself at the expense of others, Juyeon?” he asks.

“No, but-”

“Okay then. Why did you tick the box ‘yes’?” Sangyeon pushes. Juyeon stops and feels the weight of the words in his mouth, laying thick and heavy on his tongue. 

He exhales slowly. “Because ticking ‘no’ felt wrong inside. Because it’s not representative of how I feel anymore.” 

“Right,” Sangyeon agrees readily. “Look, there isn’t an entrance requirement of suffering through homophobia to be LGBT, Juyeon. You don’t have to have dealt with all of the bad just to be able to have the good — I don’t think anyone would _ever_ expect that of another person.” 

It makes sense. The words are warm and sweet, hot tea on a rainy day, and Juyeon feels another something inside of him ease. Even so, he protests half-heartedly. 

“I _guess_ , but doesn’t it limit my understanding of being a part of a wider community?” he mumbles. Sangyeon huffs in exasperation. 

“Sure, in that if _one_ specific thing hasn’t caused you misery you can’t really speak to it, but it’s not like realising you’re queer means you have to suddenly become a spokesperson for everyone else,” he remarks. “We’re all still just people learning about each other and trying to make things better for others like us, y’know?”

Juyeon doesn’t respond for a while, simply lets himself sink into the syllables of acceptance. When finally he finds a way to dislodge the words trapped in his throat, he croaks, “Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, hyung.”

Sangyeon makes a gratified sound and goes on to reel off the details of the trip that, in truth, Juyeon barely hears. All he can focus on is the feeling of the edifice of guilt being chipped away by Sangyeon’s - and Eric and Kevin and Hyunjae’s - warmth, the sudden lightness of letting himself feel at home. 

Belonging unfurls in Juyeon’s chest like sweet petals and tender greens.  
  


~~

  
Juyeon doesn’t really believe in fate, but he definitely believes in bad luck. The tour was supposed to bring him to the same continent as his girlfriend, and he’s in the middle of booking a plane ticket to go see her after the tour ends when she calls, two months after Sangyeon gave him the good news. 

When he answers the phone, he sees her ashen face and quivering bottom lip and something in him _knows_. Honestly, he’s known for a while now — the growing length of time between each phone call and the conversations that turn stale with increasing speed made it so clear. 

“You know it’s not- not working anymore right?” she murmurs. Tears are gathered at her dark lash-line, clinging valiantly in spite of the emotion in her voice. “It’s just- gotten too hard. There’s no foreseeable end and we both-”

“Yeah.” Juyeon’s chest feels unimaginably heavy. “I know.”

“I thought we could- I thought we’d be fine, when I was still planning on coming back to Seoul next year, but now with the whole promotion” - Juyeon remembers how happy he had been for her when she told him she’d gotten the coveted position - “I can’t leave for the next few years at least.”

He smiles softly. “I know, baby. It’s okay.”

She takes a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and Juyeon thinks she means it too.

“Don’t be. I’m so-” his voice cracks minutely, “so happy you got the promotion. You worked so hard for it. It’ll be okay. We’ll be fine.”

And so his relationship ends. 

It sucks. There’s no real reason- or at least, no traumatising event that precipitates the breakup, and maybe that’s what makes it suck more, because instead of his girlfriend cheating on him, or him falling in love with someone else, it was just…atrophy. 

It’s not even the big revelation about his sexuality, and he knows it isn’t because after a two hour phone call with her, she smiled and told him how proud of him she was.

Really, the distance between them, interminable and tedious, had simply worn away at their relationship until love became care and care became remoteness. 

It’s not that they didn’t love each other anymore either. It’s just that, perhaps, somewhere along the way, the hundreds of thousands of kilometres in ocean water separating them became too much to handle. Untenable. 

When they hang up for the last time that day, both with red-rimmed eyes and regret on their lips, Juyeon feels emptiness fill his ribcage. The screen changing from his girlfriend’s watery smile and fond melancholy to black is crushing. 

It just…sucks.  
  


~~

  
There’s a banging on his door. Juyeon blinks his eyes open groggily and contemplates letting the person knock away until they inevitably give up. Just as he’s about to shut his eyes again, however, a voice comes drifting through the seam between the front door and its wooden frame.

“Juyeon-ah, seriously can you open the fucking door?”

Juyeon sighs. Of _course_ his friends elected Hyunjae - persistent and unflappably stubborn - to come rouse him from his heartbreak-induced stupor.

He slides off the sofa and shuffles over to the door. Undoes the deadbolt. Pulls it open.

“Hyung, can we not-”

“Jesus you’re worse than we thought,” Hyunjae interrupts, barging right in. “Have you even showered- nope, actually don’t want to know.” There’s disdain written across his features as he takes in the blanket on the sofa, the snacks strewn about the room and the discarded tissues all over the floor.

“Go shower,” he orders. Juyeon is about to protest when he sees the grim set of Hyunjae’s mouth. The older man continues, “Seriously, it’s like you think you’re the only person alive who’s ever experienced a break up. It’s been twenty days of you locking yourself away. _Go_.”

Juyeon stares at him incredulously for a moment, but then he remembers being eight years old and having a ten-year-old-Hyunjae forcibly drag him out of the library by his armpits to go play football. He’s pretty sure he’s heavier than Hyunjae is now, but the glint in the other’s eye is still as frightening as it was when he was just a scrawny kid trying to get lost in his books.

“Yeah okay,” he grumbles, shuffling off. 

Admittedly, the hot shower feels good. When he emerges, freshly shaved and clean for the first time in weeks, he finds Hyunjae lounging in his - now clean - living room. The older man looks up when he comes in, and a grin splits his face.

“Thank _fuck_ you shaved,” he says happily. “I didn’t know how to tell you your moustache looked like-”

“ _Hyung,”_ Juyeon interrupts with a whine. “Can you not kick me when I’m down?”

Hyunjae laughs and slings his arm around Juyeon’s shoulders. “Sure sure, sorry. Let’s go, I’m starving,” he says, leading Juyeon out of the flat. Juyeon jerks in his hold and stares at him.

“What- no, just cause I showered doesn’t mean I want to go outside,” he protests. “I’m not ready-”

Hyunjae whips around and claps his hands around Juyeon’s shoulders. “Juyeon.” There’s a seriousness to his voice that Juyeon rarely hears. “Your relationship ended. It fucking blows — I get it. But you’re also leaving Seoul next week for a whole month, and I’ve seen you maybe three times since I got back from the States. You _owe_ me your time.”

Juyeon stares at him. The words are a little callous perhaps, but underneath it all, he sees the worry shining in Hyunjae’s eyes as they dart across Juyeon’s face and the rather surprising ache he hears in the other man’s voice. 

So there’s nothing to do except sigh, really. It’s not like this is new — Hyunjae has been the one indomitable force in Juyeon’s otherwise reasonably quiet life since they were children.

“Yeah, okay,” he says. The smile he gets in return is blinding.  
  


~~

  
The tour is _great_. 

Sure, on the day he leaves, he’s sad to say goodbye to his friends who all congregate at the airport to see him off. Still, America is absolutely gorgeous, and Juyeon goes through endless rolls of film with how many photos he takes on the camera Sangyeon lent him. 

Sometimes it gets a little lonely though, especially when the author is off socialising with other up-and-coming writers at author-only events. In those moments of solitude, Juyeon finds himself calling Hyunjae whenever the other man is free and their timezones match up.

He doesn’t realise how much those calls have become a fixture in his life until Hyunjae points out one day that they’ve been calling four times a week for the last two weeks. 

“You’re kidding,” Juyeon says with a frown. “Really? Shit, is it interrupting your day?”

Hyunjae laughs and waves him off. “Don’t say stupid things, Juyeon-ah,” he reprimands. “It’s more like is it interrupting _your_ day? You’re in America — you should be exploring and going out and partying with other hot, young people.”

Juyeon snorts, and Hyunjae grins.

“You know I prefer one-on-ones with you over all of that,” Juyeon counters as he turns over in his bed. It’s late at night where he is, but Hyunjae is just getting up for the day with a softness around his features that comes from being half-awake.

“You look really good,” Juyeon says without thinking. The compliment makes his heart stutter somehow, and he can’t help the next words that trip out from between his lips. “Really, really good.” 

There’s a brief silence where Hyunjae stares at him through the video call. They look at each other for a moment, and heat builds in Juyeon’s face until Hyunjae smiles fondly. 

“You too, Juyeon-ah. The U.S. suits you,” he says, propping his chin up on his pillow in bed. 

Juyeon smiles to cover the embarrassment he feels. He looks away, before mumbling out, “Yeah. Still miss you- and Seoul, too.” 

It’s childish. He’s twenty two but sometimes Hyunjae makes him feel like he’s fifteen again. 

Hyunjae sighs over the phone, tenderness that goes unchecked even by bad WiFi and pixelated screens playing at his lips. 

“Miss you too,” he says. 

It’s not anything groundbreaking, telling his handsome childhood friend that he misses him, but Juyeon feels something cosmically important click into place anyway. Hyunjae seems to sense that this is as much as Juyeon and his fresh little queer heart can handle right now, because he smiles again before telling Juyeon to get some sleep.

When Juyeon says goodnight, he wonders if Hyunjae can tell his eyes flicker to Hyunjae’s lips from across the video call. 

  
~~

  
Juyeon likes travelling, but he’s not nuts about plane rides. By the time he’s made it off the tarmac and into the airport, he’s unbelievably glad to be home.

It’s late, around 3 AM by the time he gets through security. He’ll probably go home and pass out, he figures, and deal with unpacking tomorrow morning. His fridge will be sinfully empty, but he’s hoping that at least Kevin has kept his promise of watering Juyeon’s little fern periodically.

When he emerges through the gates out into the arrival hall, he doesn’t expect to hear his name being called.

“Juyeon-ah!” 

His head jerks in surprise, eyes travelling swiftly to follow the sound. When he sees Hyunjae, tawny hair bouncing as he waves emphatically, Juyeon’s heart bursts with something indescribably sweet. 

_The feeling sort of reminds Juyeon of the way he felt the first time he took his ex-girlfriend on a date._

“Hyung?” he laughs breathlessly, striding over. “What’re you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

Hyunjae chuckles and throws his arms around him. “D’oy, couldn’t let you come back to Seoul all on your lonesome.” His breath is hot against Juyeon’s ear and it makes something shiver inside him. When Hyunjae pulls back, Juyeon can’t help the sudden uptick in his heartbeat as he watches the way Hyunjae watches him.

“C’mon, I drove — let me drop you home,” Hyunjae says, clasping his small hand around Juyeon’s wrist. 

Juyeon stops him quietly by laying his own hand atop Hyunjae’s, prompting the older man to turn with a question written all over his pretty features. 

“You- uh, it’s late. Do you want to- to stay over?” Juyeon asks tentatively. Hyunjae’s gaze gets brighter somehow, sparkling like the coruscating stars they used to stay up late to watch when they were kids. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that a lot.”  
  


~~

  
Upon opening his front door, Juyeon is pleased to see that there isn’t a fine layer of dust all over his house as he’d expected — Kevin had apparently cleaned every time he dropped by, and Juyeon wonders briefly what sort of wine his friend would like as a thank you gift. 

Hyunjae wanders in after him and removes his coat. He seems content to let Juyeon dictate what they do because he stands in the doorway, complacent and pliant for once in his life, as he waits for Juyeon’s direction.

“Sit for a second?” Juyeon asks, gesturing to the sofa. Hyunjae quirks his lips, bemused but fond, and nods before walking over to settle on the leather upholstery. Juyeon follows and slumps down too. 

“It’s been…a crazy year,” he murmurs into the darkness, and he hears more than sees Hyunjae nod beside him. 

“Definitely,” the older man agrees. “Especially for you.”

Juyeon chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Yeah. Sometimes it feels like the whole world is moving at one pace and I’m always three steps behind. Like I’m always running a little too slowly or something,” he admits. 

A small hand reaches over to lay itself on Juyeon’s knee. 

“You don’t owe anyone anything, Juyeon-ah,” Hyunjae says with feeling, large eyes blinking firmly over at Juyeon. “You _get_ to take as much or as little time as you need.”

The fervour in his voice makes Juyeon’s stomach clench briefly, but he nods silently anyway. They stay like this for a while, the silence punctuated only by their quiet breaths, until he angles his chin to lean his head against the back of the sofa. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks the man beside him. Hyunjae beams and turns his pretty face over to look at Juyeon properly. 

“Sure,” he says. “Right now?” His lips are pulled into the loveliest smile as he regards Juyeon. 

Juyeon chews the inside of his cheek and mulls the question over. Finally— 

“No. But maybe soon?” he hedges. The warmth of Hyunjae’s features doesn’t falter, and, with gentle fingertips, he touches the freckle on Juyeon’s right cheek.

“Whenever,” he murmurs with ceaseless affection shining in his dark eyes. “You have all the time in the world.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you've gotten this far, I hope you're not too traumatised by how badly this is written. Thank you for reading something so personal to me. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated so, so much.
> 
> If you want to chat or get updates on my work, come find me on Twitter (link in profile)!
> 
> \- Anon


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